


Uncertainty

by thetidebreaks



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Extended Scene, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetidebreaks/pseuds/thetidebreaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during and after "Kansas". There’s no choice involved and Zelena damn well knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncertainty

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something while I work on my longer fic. Damn episode gave me too many feelings, ya'll.

**I.**

Emma thinks, it can’t end like this.

Killian’s no more than a rag doll when she finally pulls him out. His thrashing has long since stopped. On the ground, he is still, lifeless. The panic that grips her is overwhelming, fingers digging into the slick black fabric of his leather coat to shake him. Tries to beg him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t. A slight blue tint is taking hold of his stubbled face. Zelena’s words echo in her head.

_Choose wisely_.

There’s no choice involved and Zelena damn well knows it. Emma swears under her breath as she positions herself over him, her hands coming up to stabilize him for what she’s about to do. The consequences of this are screaming in the back of her mind about what will happen if she does this, but the consequences if she doesn’t are too much for her to bear. The decision had been made and set in stone the second he stopped breathing.

His lips are cold when she presses hers against them. The chill feels like it spreads through her, but she closes her eyes and ignores it, ignores everything but trying to help him get the water out of his lungs. Something inside her is gone and she can feel that, too, but all she can do is lean over him, willing him to breathe. Willing it to not all be for nothing.

Without thinking, she whispers again, “Hook, come back to me.”

What she doesn’t say is: She can’t do this again. She can’t watch someone she cares about slip away in her arms. She can’t be the reason he’s dead, not after everything they’ve gone through. She can’t lose him, she can’t.  _Not again, not again._

It feels like hours when it’s really mere seconds that he’s suddenly springing to life, choking out water and gasping to get a lungful of air after. She lets out the breath she’d been holding herself, relief etched in her features that she can’t readily hide. All she can think to do is to stroke the back of his head gently, as if the mere motion would help him get air back into his lungs and calm his choking. All the while, she’s leaning over him as he struggles to focus, and when he does, it’s squarely on her face.

He touches his once pale lips. He knows without her saying a word. The horror on his face follows quickly after, and she knows they’re both thinking the same thing, how well and truly screwed they all might be now. Still,  _still_  -

"I did what I had to," she states, her gaze shifting away. She doesn’t elaborate and he doesn’t ask, simply gets up to help him to his feet. He’s silent as he stands, and when she looks at him again, his expression has shifted into something closer to anguish, shame. She almost wants to reach out to him and it scares her almost as much as the idea that she almost lost him.

"We have to go," she says instead, her hands remaining at her sides. "Zelena’s already there. We have to go."

And he’s still unsteady on his feet but he nods without hesitation. Doesn’t complain that he needs a moment. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t speak at all, really, which is unnerving in a way she can’t really describe. So she focuses on everything else, on what they can do. Every so often she looks over and finds he’s staring straight ahead, jaw tightened, eyes downcast.

Later on, they ask her how she lost her powers. Her response is one she’s rehearsed the whole way there: _it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter._

Except it does and she knows it, and all it makes her want to do is run.

 

**II.**

Killian knows, to some extent, that getting his hopes up led to more disappointment. Still, the mention of New York stings, especially said so casually. What happened gave her no second thoughts, and he supposes he fooled himself in thinking her choice meant anything. That he meant anything to her anymore. No, that ship, he supposes, had sailed. In some ways, he thinks it’s perhaps a fitting punishment for what he did.

It would be better if he left. He’s not sure what compels him to stay.

They gather inside the small room, and he can’t help but follow, hanging far back by the door. He doesn’t need to see most of their faces to know they’re smiling, joyful, at the return of the small bundle. Despite all misgivings, he truly would have never wished the pain of a loss of a child on any of them.

He’s about to step away - he’s aware he’s likely unwelcome in the moment and the last thing he wants to do is cause more trouble - when Snow notices his presence. She seems genuinely surprised, and he immediately looks apologetic.

"I was just checking in for a moment," he explains, pulling the attention of the rest of the room. He only takes a single step back before Snow stops him.

"Killian, you don’t need to stand out there," she says, and her tone is warm. It’s a bit surprising, though he supposes both Charming and she had come to the same conclusion over what happened, though he has little doubt that opinion will sour again soon enough. The thought is enough that it makes him want to decline the invitation, but he doesn’t want to upset anyone. So he enters, sharing a brief look with Emma as he stands beside her. Snow shifts a little so he can see the child better and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find him a bit of a sight to behold. His brother hadn’t lived long enough to have children and he certainly had none of his own. Seeing one so new to life stirs something in him he didn’t really expect.

"Not even fazed a bit. He’s a tough lad, I suppose that runs in the family," he offers, a fond smirk rising. It’s a compliment and both of them know it, and Charming even lets out a slight laugh himself. Snow’s expression remains fairly serious regardless, and when she speaks, he understands why.

"David and I both wanted to thank you for all the help today. With everything," she says, and there, right there, brings up a whole wash of guilt he’d managed to stamp down for the moment. He masks any reaction quickly to the unexpected and undeserved compliment, and neither of them seem to notice anything amiss.

"I’ve done nothing worth thanks," he replies, simply and honestly, his head bowed a bit now. He can feel Emma watching him, and he knows then it’s time to go. "Ah, well. Now that all the excitement seems to be over,  I’ve some matters to attend to. Goodnight."

The abruptness seems to surprise them, but he offers a tight smile and begins to leave regardless. He feels like he’s drowning all over again and all he wants is to find some way to get air. He’s just out the door when an unexpected voice calls to him.

"Killian."

He turns and sees Emma’s taken a step toward him. The moment their eyes meet she seems to lose whatever it is she’s about to say. Stands there looking unsure and uneasy, lost in her own head. He isn’t sure what it means or what she wants to say, but in the end, he simply nods towards her and continues on.

She doesn’t stop him a second time.

 

**III.**

The room they were moved into is quiet. Her brother is fast asleep with his - their - mother. Her son is curled up on a chair nearby, looking content despite the uncomfortable position he’s gotten himself in in his sleep. There’s a large window overlooking the town, and Emma finds herself staring out it, arms crossed against her chest. She hears the door to the room close softly somewhere behind her, and a few moments later, David is beside her, holding out a cup of coffee.

She offers him a thin smile as she takes it, the cup warming her hands. He stands beside her and looks out the window himself. She knows it won’t last, but for a moment, it’s peaceful.

"You want to talk about what happened?" he asks, after some time of companionable silence. She knows exactly what he means by the question. There’s some small part of her that wants to dump it all on him in that moment, but in the end, she isn’t sure where to begin.

She isn’t sure she wants to even begin, period.

"I don’t know," she admits at length, and she hates how small her voice sounds. Like a child, almost - unsure and unhappy and afraid in a way she’s never really felt before. In her periphery, she sees David nod, understanding.

"I’ll be here when you decide," he replies, simply, pressing a small kiss to her temple. She looks at him and he smiles, warm and loving, every bit the father she always wanted. He leaves her side then - probably to try to sleep himself - and she’s left wrapped up in her own thoughts again. She hates something Hook said keeps echoing around in her head.

_Like it or not, a big part of you and Henry belongs in this town._

She’d been so quick to deny it when he said it, but the more she thinks about it, the more she knows it’s true. And she isn’t sure what to do with that thought or the million others that seem to be spinning around in her mind. And she hates Hook for it, hates him for constantly questioning her, because in the end, he keeps bringing up the one thought that’s only been made worse by the loss of her magic.

She doesn’t know who  _she_  is anymore. She doesn’t know and she’s not sure if she wants to find out. 

Isn’t sure if she even  _knows_  how to find out any longer.


End file.
